


Sweating Our Confessions (The Undone and the Divine)

by Blackparade



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bottom Bucky, Bottom Rhodey, Bucky and Rhodey know how to drive their men crazy, Dildos, F/M, M/M, Masturbation, Possessive Behavior, Restraints, Sharing Clothes, Skype Sex, Spanking, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-16 21:50:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9291074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackparade/pseuds/Blackparade
Summary: Steve and Tony are on their way home from a grueling mission that seemed to drag on and on. Thankfully, Bucky and Rhodey know how to help the flight home go a little quicker. *wink wink*





	

**Author's Note:**

> HOoOLllyyyYY shit this is the smuttiest thing I've ever written. Not beta read so all mistakes are my own. I'm once again pretending that Civil War didn't happen, and that Tony and Steve only hate each other a normal amount. There is a brief reference to spanking and restraints in this, so if that squicks you out you can skim over it. If there is anything else I've missed that you would like tagged, please let me know!

 

“That’s it. Go slow. I love the way you roll your hips.”

The past two weeks have been Hell.

Whoever made the call to send Tony along with him for an undercover OP in Vegas is someone that Steve would personally like to punch in the dick. For one, Tony wouldn’t know stealth if it bit him square in the ass. Second, Vegas and Tony are two variables that should never be allowed exposure to one another.

Steve hasn’t the slightest idea how this mission was successful, so he’s just trying to be glad in the fact that it’s over.

The beautiful sight on his IPad screen is also pretty much the perfect ending to an otherwise awful experience.

He thanks all the stars in Heaven that he was hidden within the privacy of his own cabin on the Quinn jet when the video call came in, because the sight of Bucky in one of his sweaters riding a dildo is a sight for his eyes only.

“Love it when you where my clothes, sweetheart.”

Bucky’s got that pink tint dancing up along his neck and filling out his cheeks, meaning all of Steve’s praise is having exactly the intended effect.

His pretty gray eyes are shining and staring intently at Steve, or rather, the huge cock that Steve has taken to stroking nice and slow to the show his boyfriend is putting on for him.

“You better hurry home, Captain. I might have to finish without you.”

“Only if you want bent over my knee.”

“I’m counting on it.”

Steve clocks the sass in the back of his mind to use as play with the beautiful brunet once he finally gets back to the tower. Bucky’s been in need of a good spanking for more than just the two weeks Steve has been gone, starting with adopting a puppy with no prior consultation while Steve was speaking at a conference in London, and most recently, casually and drunkenly, revealing to the rest of the team that Sam and Natasha had finally gotten their shit together (and gotten together in the process,) and that Sam is really into pegging.

All fun and games until Sam spit his drink all over Steve’s favorite shirt.

So yeah, definitely at least ten spanks.

“Oh, Stevie…. Wish I was riding you.”

_You and me both, sweetheart._

Just thirty minutes and Steve will back at the tower, playing out every last filthy thought running through his mind while watching his boyfriend swirl his hips and flex his thighs, working more and more of the bright purple dildo into his body.

“You’re the prettiest damn thing I ever saw, Buck, God.”

Steve has to spit into his open palm again, closing his eyes and imagining being back in their bedroom, fucking into Bucky’s heavenly body instead of his fist. He’ll take it slow, keep Bucky begging in that way that sets off every possessive instinct in Steve’s body. He’ll take time to litter his lover’s body with bites and bruises, knowing full well that Bucky will wear them all proudly to breakfast the following morning along with one of about fifty pairs of booty shorts that he owns. He’ll smack that pretty round ass and watch it bounce around his cock….

“Are you in my office?”

Any other time and Steve would be ashamed that it took him so long to realize that Bucky isn’t in their bed, but rather in the massive pleated leather chair that adorns his office about twelve floors below their bedroom.

An office that, not so coincidentally, has floor-to-ceiling windows.

His baby boy is not only giving him, but all of Manhattan, a show.

“Want you to fuck me against the window when you get back.”

Steve can’t bring himself to find any objections to the idea, their own personal rebuttal to the _Enquirer_ article released earlier that week that tried to speculate about his boyfriend’s romantic connection to Natasha. At almost the same time the major magazines and periodicals finally stopped treating him as an enemy of the state and acknowledging that he is a survivor and prisoner of war, they also began painting him as The Avenger's newest womanizer. The most recent article tried to paint his hella gay boyfriend and Natasha as a hot new item after spotting them at a yoga class together the week before.

Coincidentally, the pegging occurred the same night the article was released.

And the following day, Sam limped out onto stage at a press conference behind Nat with the biggest, shit-eating grin on his face as she declared that she already has a boyfriend. 

“Want the whole city to see how good I am to you, huh? Show em’ how I make my baby boy scream?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

Press him up against the glass and eat him out until he can barely stand, then turn him around so Steve can stare right in his eyes as he wraps Bucky’s legs around his waist and sinks into his amazing ass. Bucky's toes will likely curl and his voice will get all high and strained like it always does when Steve fucks him. It's cute as all Hell, to be perfectly honest. Primarily, because Bucky can play the flirt so well for an audience. One of their favorite games to play is Bucky seeing just how many people he can get away flirting with before Steve locks them in the nearest closet and makes his ass shine cherry-red.

Lube would be nice right about now, because Steve is running out of saliva, but it goes without saying that he hadn’t thought to bring along lube for this two-week, Tony-filled mission from Hell.

It's not just the sex that he's looking forward to, as amazing as it is sure to be, but just Bucky in general. Tony didn't wake up every morning just to make sure he's got coffee and pancakes when he rolls out of bed. No one was there to appreciate the sun rising up over the desert in the distance with him. Wrapping a pillow up in his arms wasn't the same as holding his beautiful, soft boyfriend under the covers. He struggled to fall asleep to the television where as he usually falls asleep listening to Bucky reading one of his science-fiction books aloud. He wants to kiss Bucky's soft, pink lips and hold him in his arms just as much as he wants to ram him through the mattress, and he just has to hold out a little while longer until he can do so.

Bucky’s still circling his hips nice and slow, holding Steve’s sweater out of the way of his pretty, leaking cock, and damn, does Steve want a taste.

“I’m gonna treat you so nice when I get back, baby.”

Bucky's only response is a high-pitched wine, and immediately Steve is reminded that he isn't alone on this aircraft.

"Gotta stay quiet baby, don't want to give Tony any more reason to be an annoying prick."

 

* * *

 

 

"Did I tell you that you look damn good in that flannel? Where'd you find it, my closet?"

Tony can't think of a better way to end these past two weeks in purgatory with Captain buzzkill than a video call from his husband.

Even better, is that Rhodey is clad in one of his beat up old flannels from the lab, riding a thick orange dildo, in what looks like the drivers seat of Tony's Aston Martin. He's got two hands on the steering wheel with his hips moving in pretty spirals and the only thing that could make it all better is if Tony was there with him.

"I found it right behind that pair of black silks we haven't used since the nineties. Remember that, Tones?"

Boy, does he ever. Rhodey looked so pretty all tied down and begging for Tony to stop teasing and fuck him already.

"I think I'll use em on you this time. Tie you down and ride you nice and slow and you won't be able to do anything but lay there and watch."

"Oh, behave."

Tony can't bring himself to find any opposition to the idea either. No matter what the world hurls at him, be it another FOX breaking news special about his crippling alcoholism and split personalities or yet another death threat from some troll on Twitter, Tony can always count on his husband to ease some of the pain.

Tony has made a lot of bad calls in his life, but Rhodey isn't one of them.

Rhodey is the best damn decision he's ever made.

It's not an uncommon thought of his that if Rhodey hadn't been in his life, one too many gambles or stupid spur-of-the-moment ideas could have easily taken Tony to his grave, and justly, Tony finds himself every morning waking next to this man he loves with his whole heart and clinging to him that much tighter. He's grown far too accustomed to the people he cares about walking out on him, and a small nagging fear in the back of his mind always stays, always makes him fear that the next time he awakes it will be to an empty bed.

Then Rhodey kisses him and he's reminded that he has nothing to worry about.

"You're so beautiful, honey bear."

"Told you not to call me that."

Any bite Rhodey's words may have had get lost in the breathy moan that accompanies his words. He's like a drug, and Tony can't get enough.

"What do you want me to call you? Baby boy, doll face, kitten?"

Rhodeys soft whimpers turn into a bark of laughter at the last suggestion and Tony can't help but think he must look a little ridiculous, fifty-one years old and palming his erection beneath his jeans all because his husband decided to surprise him with a private show. Cap probably doesn't have any fun like this. He probably takes Barnes on the most boring ass dates imaginable, like guided boat tours or something equally as shitty. He's so lucky to have Rhodey.

He hasn't quite reached Natasha's level of dominance just yet; but then again, this is the same woman who cried when her very thoughtful and caring boyfriend enrolled to take a ballet class with her, so he's pretty sure they're all entitled to their own personal sappiness. 

"Need you to get home, Tony."

Rhodey's eyes are completely glazed over at this point, and there may as well be no screen separating them because his gaze is piercing into Tony's very soul.

"Gonna wreck you when I get back, gorgeous."

Rhodey full on moans at that, open and wanton and Tony very abruptly remembers that a ninety-nine year old stick in the mud is asleep in the cabin right next to his.

"SHHHHHH, need to stay quiet, baby. Don't want Cap to hear things that are meant for my ears only."

 

* * *

 

 

They arrive back at the tower exactly on schedule a half-an-hour later. Hill is waiting at the landing bay with a million questions and orders to have their final reports ready in the morning, but both men's minds are far too occupied to absorb any of what she's saying.

"Dismissed."

After a few seconds of awkward silence and not knowing how to engage one another, they settle for a brief nod of the head.

"Stark."

"Rogers."

And that's all it takes, both Tony and Steve are off and running to separate ends of the tower with the promise of a beautiful boy waiting for them when they arrive.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! Find me on Tumblr @ sailwithneintothedark


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